


Soft Music

by Freckles_From_Brooklyn



Series: Preemptive Fix-it Fics because god knows we're gonna need it [22]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: I just wanted to be clear, Jon does not have a band in this fic, Just to be clear this is not Mechanisms!Jon, M/M, Post canon, Preemptive fix it, That's probably obvious but like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29431596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckles_From_Brooklyn/pseuds/Freckles_From_Brooklyn
Summary: Jon doesn't like singing solo in front of other people.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Preemptive Fix-it Fics because god knows we're gonna need it [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132277
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Soft Music

Jon loved to sing. Music had been a part of his life since he was little, and he thought his voice sounded pretty decent. What Jon didn’t like was singing on his own in front of people. He’d been in choir when he was younger, but he never tried out for any solo parts when the opportunity arose. In Uni and while he was working at the Magnus Institute, he’d avoided karaoke nights like the plague, and on the off chance he was dragged one, he spent the whole night doing everything he could to avoid ending up on stage. Even when he and Martin were in the safehouse together, even when they started dating, even after the apocalypse, Jon would only sing when he was sure he was alone. He wasn’t ready for Martin to hear him sing. 

Martin, on the other hand, was constantly singing. He had a beautiful tenor voice, and he wasn’t afraid to show it off. Music was a constant presence in the kitchen, the Bluetooth speaker on top of the fridge playing whenever Martin was preparing a meal, his voice rising to join whatever song happened to be on. Jon never got tired of hearing Martin sing. 

Martin was in town running errands and taking care of things. He’d left in the morning, and he wouldn’t be back until evening, which meant Jon was in charge of making dinner. He stood over a pot of boiling potatoes, singing along to the playlist he’d put on.

“Because I’m still in love with you, I wanna see you dance again, because I’m still in love with you on this harvest moon.” Jon held out the last note as the song faded. A pair of arms wrapped around his waist, and Jon froze, panic surging through him. Someone had broken in, he was sure of it, and they were going to kidnap him or kill him. One hand scrambled along the countertop, looking for something he could use to defend himself, while the other crept up to the scar across his throat, a grim reminder of the time Daisy had tried to kill him. The hands immediately retreated. 

“Whoa, hey,” Martin said softly. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s just me. I’m sorry, I forgot that you don’t like me grabbing you from behind.”

“Martin!” Jon said, turning to face his husband. “Christ, you almost gave me a heart attack!”

“I know,” Martin said, looking apologetic. “I really forgot. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jon replied, smiling at him. 

“When were you going to tell me you could sing?” Martin demanded. Jon’s cheeks got darker as his face flushed. 

“You heard that?” he asked. 

“Yes, I heard it, and it was amazing!” Martin said. “Have you always had the voice of a fucking angel?”

“I don’t have the voice of an angel,” Jon argued. 

“You do too!” Martin retorted. “Your voice is beautiful!” Jon didn’t reply, he just looked at the floor. Martin put two fingers under his chin, tilting his head up. “Hey, it’s okay if you don’t want to sing in front of me,” he said. “I’m sorry for pushing. I’ll drop the subject if you want.” 

“Yes, please,” Jon replied, relieved. 

“Okay.” Martin leaned down to kiss Jon. “What’s for dinner?” 

“Bangers and mash,” Jon replied. “I figured it was about time we used those sausages we got from the butcher the other week.” 

“Sounds perfect,” Martin said. “Do you need any help?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Jon said. 

“Alright.” Martin gave Jon another kiss before going to put away the things he’d gotten in town.

Martin woke up a few days later with a raging fever. Jon dropped everything immediately, doting over his husband, bringing him food, water, medicine, and otherwise doing anything else Martin needed as he drifted in and out of sleep.

“Jon, can you sing to me?” Martin asked as Jon sat next to him, carefully dabbing at his forehead with a damp rag. Jon hesitated, and Martin quickly backtracked. “I mean— you don’t have to,” He said. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Jon replied. “What do you want me to sing?”

“The song you were singing a few days ago, please,” Martin said, pulling the blankets closer around him. “The one about dancing and the moon.” 

“Alright,” Jon said. “Try to relax, okay?”

“Okay,” Martin replied, his eyes sliding closed as Jon began to sing. He looked so peaceful, so happy as he let Jon’s voice wash over him. Maybe Jon didn’t mind Martin hearing him sing as much as he thought he did.

**Author's Note:**

> The song that Jon's singing is called Harvest Moon by Neil Young, in case anyone's interested


End file.
